Impressing who?

I have never understood the time and money that went into the over dressed population that rises early to paint themselves in a different light to impress an invisible man.  Most Sunday's and Wednesday's people make their trek to a building that was erected larger and more beautiful then the other. 

A competition ensues. 

A competition between individuals of society and the bean counters behind the scenes to market their religion although it isn't religion they are marketing.  Or is it?

Putting on their Sunday best.  Suits, ties, dresses and hosiery with shined flats and heels so they can sit uncomfortably while they listen to a mans version of what the ever changing bible has to say.

Why would anyone think that actually going to a building to ultimately tithe, which is an entirely different subject in itself; is going to save them?  I suppose many people do it for companionship.  To feel a part of a group of sorts and what better group then those that supposedly guarantee you a ticket to heaven.

So as moms and dads wake their babies to bathe, dress and comb their hair perfectly to sit with the evil eye upon them from their parents if they act up literally makes me laugh.  I say, take them as they are and let them act as they will.  God came dressed in rags, wasn't rich and had long hair.  Or at least that is what the images that are sold world wide in marketplaces show.  Except his images show an ever so beautiful glowing light that radiates beauty in which society prays will accompany them.  

I do not go to church and fear not what is in store for me.  If there is actually anything in store or not remains to be seen and furthermore remains to be known by any living creature that roams this earth.  It makes perfect sense, to me, to have nothing to do with any type of organized religion.

Either you believe in God or you do not.  You either go to church or you do not.  But why in the hell do you dress up for it?  It is the false pretense from society that man has created to make you believe that you must appear a certain way to go to church or better yet to be saved.  

It has nothing to do with being saved.  It has nothing to do with religion.  It is simply a passed down tradition for centuries that people take part in with the belief that it is in fact the right thing to do.  

So as you go about your morning racing to the building that thousands of dollars were spent on I will sit here and enjoy my coffee combined with energy drink and a cigarette.  I will listen to the music that inspires me to continue to believe in myself while I write the truth of me and not clouded by the ever changing rules of religion.

While the rules change and different versions are printed each year one thing will remain the same and that is my belief.  If there is a God and if he is forgiving then he will accept the fact that I did not fall victim.

Manic

So, I will just put it out there - I am a manic depressive individual.

Shocker!  Well, the shock comes from the actions in which I take.  Anyone that has spent any amount of quality time with me knows damn well that I am a bit, to say the least, off balance.  I can be a bitchy obsessive thinker and sometimes extreme in my unrelenting actions but most of all I, when in that low state, do the unthinkable by not thinking before acting. 

I have always been a 'fly by the seat of your pants' kind of gal but lately I have flown a bit far.  I have taken drinking to a whole new level and at the moment I am out.  I have actually been debating going to the store to purchase my favorite bottle of wine but the advice from a friend has actually kept me from doing so.  My choice however his strength on me weighs a great deal so I will write. 

I have been making poor decisions recently.  Well, actually some of them I don't see to actually be poor but there is one in particular that has wrecked havoc on a relationship that I never saw coming to this.

He is a passionate man with great strength and I hold the utmost admiration for such a being.  When I hear his voice, his breathing I can feel him run through my veins.  I fell in love with him.  I did not just fall in love with him but I am also in awe over his courage to fight, to stand like a mighty oak and his unrelenting love for his beliefs.  How did he get there, how does he maintain his convictions?  What is it that God wants me to learn from him.  And yes, I said God - I am working on this. 

I placed a gaping hole in what we built between us.  My manic actions and the way I allowed them to interfere with common sense completely tore through an unwavering friendship until I brought the waves. 

It is unsettling where I lay and yet I made this bed.  I lay alone praying for solace between us.  I can no longer beg and plead with him.  I can only show him that my loyalty is of the truest and though, and I am not excusing my actions, I have made him question and it is up to me and me alone to bring belief back to the core of us.

It will take time and maybe right now we need time from each other.  I do not want that however I understand that if we do not breathe without the other, mainly me, then our breaths will contain fire. 

I know that he loves me, respects me and to the end of our days he will honor me; this I do not doubt.  I have some growing up to do and I long for the day that he looks at me and says I was worth every ounce of laughter and pain that we, together, endured.

Realization

Today marks the one year anniversary that I kicked my husband of twelve years to the curb.  Literally, that is how it was.  He had no where to go but probably his mothers and I honestly did not give a damn anymore. 

I recall the night before telling him that I no longer loved him; that I wanted him gone.  The lack of loving him was not new to me, only the courage to actually say it was.  I was very calm in my approach.  I did not yell, cuss, throw things or even cry.  I was matter of fact and I made no mistake in making myself clear. 

I found that the moments it took to perform a non rehearsed speech eerily comforting.  It was truly the only feeling I had since I had exhausted all others in the years prior. 

I sat calmly as I watched him cry and beg me to forgive any mistakes he had made and to please give him another chance.  I gave to him the one thing he so willingly gave to me by not listening.  It was not something I set out to do it was just easier to convey in a language which he spoke. 

Not one minute, hour nor day has passed that I have ever regretted my decision to leave him. 

The only thing that hurts is the one thing I do not know how to fix.